


The Valiant Never Taste of Death But Once

by slipthroughknot



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slipthroughknot/pseuds/slipthroughknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Farewell forever, aeternum vale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Valiant Never Taste of Death But Once

The day to pay tribute to the dead never came for the rebellion. There had not been time to properly grieve for Oenomaus and Mira when they fell in battle, and in the midst of retreating to prepare for the new waves of Roman onslaught, their memories were tucked away -- survival came first, and they knew that Mira and Oenomaus, no doubt with the gods now as they deserved to be, would have understood.

Romans were after them, in increasing number and with more at stake. They were growing larger in number and thus harder to conceal, and now had to rely on more raiding, going after slavers and their heavy purses of denarii if the choice arose. Along with their number came sympathy and support from the farmers, who despite their own hardships would take part of their cheese and bread and give it to them willingly, without payment. Always something that warmed their hearts. There were whispers on the farm lands of Spartacus, of boys who wielded sticks and liberated armies among the olive trees, girls who took up bow and arrow or threw light daggers to master their aim.

As they left townsfolk with thoughts of rebellion, inevitably so did death. But there was never enough time to perform the proper rituals for those who died immediately or left to suffer long agonizing farewells as they lay abandoned on the battlefield.

The rebels forged ahead, lighter on their feet and their future gleaming with promise even as the weight of the past made sure they never floated too high.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron awoke to a warm day near the shore. The waves were gentle and lapped about the beach as if murmuring prayers in temples he had passed long ago. The air was warm and scented with brine and charred fish; many in the camp had yet to master the art of flame to food. They had slept under the stars last night, a luxury after days spent in thick forest and dank caves. Spartacus had warned them that their time near the shore would not last long, that they had to retreat to darkness once more, but the two days they had here to get fish, an almost unimaginable luxury, was something the entire camp was determined to enjoy. The chance to wash away the accumulated filth that one got accustomed to living a fugitive life was also welcome respite.

The beach they had chosen was not random. It was surrounded by cliffs on the north side, the shores bisected by tall formations of rock on the east side, probably forbidding even during his forefather's times -- a sentry stood watch even now. A gap in this rock formed an entrance to the shores they inhabited now. The west was flat, the view of sand and water panoramic and to the south lay the water. The cliffs themselves had tunnels, one that led to the forests inland, a fortuitous discovery on the part of their scouts. For all that they appeared trapped, they were not.

The sounds of the camp drifted in and when he turned his head, he saw that many of them were already active. A group was returning from exploration, their arms filled with fruits and the results of an early morning hunt with Gannicus at the front. Many of the women were already preparing food for the camp. Agron rose and dusted himself off and marked the map that formed his life: Nasir to his left with other former house slaves, crude spears in their hands waiting in silence for foolish fish. Spartacus was already walking with determination towards Crixus and Naevia's spot, both having just risen as well. Saxa was walking towards Gannicus, and there Agron would not ask questions. Donar and Lugo were snoring, still deep in slumber. How they slept amidst such clamor he didn't know.

He walked towards Nasir, stopping first to wash his face and rinse his mouth, wincing at the terrible taste of the water. He watched as Nasir tried to walk closer to his target, only to curse in frustration as he missed with his spear. Agron laughed, his voice still cracked from his night's rest. Nasir looked over his shoulder and smiled. He tucked his unbound hair behind his ear and walked over.

Nasir's body was even slighter now, but to Agron's eyes stronger, lined with muscle from dedicated use. The scar on his side was now a paler stripe of flesh, healed over though Nasir still sometimes grasped the scar in remembered pain. The sun had burnished his skin to the color of the finest wood, and with the sun behind him, he was an arresting sight.

"The mighty German warrior awakes," Nasir said. He dropped his spear and walked into Agron's open arms. Agron breathed the salt-sweat-skin smell of him, his little wild dog. He tilted Nasir's head up and enjoyed what was now their morning ritual, this morning's kiss a lazy meandering one that was like playing through fields of wheat, so unlike their usual brief and heated exchanges.

As always, time disappeared with Agron lost in the swirl of tongue, in the aching _want_ , the desperate need.

"Agron," he heard Naevia say behind him. He broke the kiss and stared at Nasir's luminous smile, the moment interrupted but not broken.

"Yes, Naevia?" 

"Spartacus summons you."

"I suppose I cannot break the fast first," he said.

"There is food," Naevia said. "Bread and figs, some fish already prepared, leftover cheese from the kind farmers days ago."

"A worthy repast," Agron said and finally turned away from Nasir. "Gratitude," he said to Naevia directly, who smiled warmly at him and even more so at Nasir. They were thick as thieves as of late, especially now with Mira just a cherished memory.

He walked to the center of camp, Spartacus, Gannicus and Crixus already forming three points with Agron the fourth. The men nodded at him and Spartacus started speaking without any delay. "We must now start the voyage north." They knew this was coming soon, though there were finer points that still needed to be discussed. Crixus had very different desires to what he wanted the rebellion to accomplish, something Spartacus seemed to disagree with. To Agron's horror, he often found himself agreeing with the fucking Gaul, and even with their recent truce, this was not something he anticipated happening this often.

All four of them could at least, for now, agree that it was time to move. They also discussed plans for funeral rites, even if in spirit, for the dead in their rebellion. Never enough time, they all agreed. The dead would understand. They ate the bread and cheese, Agron relishing the figs. The plan was to break camp after the morning meal was eaten. Agron had eaten the last fig when he heard the call.

"Romans! Romans!"

The change was swift. The ones who knew they couldn't fight started running towards the tunnels while the fighters surged forward. The sentry herself was an archer trained by Mira, and it was she who landed the first blow by arrow.

"How many?" Spartacus demanded.

"A small group," she said. "They appear to have deserted Roman command, but they charge with swords."

"Bounty hunters!" Crixus said. "Desperate men who cannot go back with honor unless they bear the results of fallen command."

The remaining gladiators and the other fighting men stood at the ready, waiting for them to crash through the gap among the rocks. The archers formed a ring on both sides away from the gladiators so that they could get their arrows into the first men who appeared, while some of them climbed the cliffs to join their sentry, who was laughing out loud as she had free, easy targets before her. 

Soon, the small group of soldiers crashed through the gap in the cliff walls and the fighting started in earnest. Agron would be impressed by their valor if he wasn't so angry. With Gannicus and Crixus beside him they charged at the men as the archers let loose and the small group of soldiers was whittled down further. The melee fighters soon take care of the rest, and while Agron longed for the day that he could put sword and shield behind him, he could never deny the energy, the glory of cleaving fucking Romans with his blade. He chanced a glance to his left and saw Nasir, sword bloodied, and felt exhilaration few things on this earth could match.

Soon it was down to a few men, all who knew they were about to die. Spartacus ordered the archers to stand down. Four of the Romans were going down fighting like honorable men, but one was struggling to get back through the crack.

"Coward!" Agron taunted.

The soldier turned around, fiery hate in his eyes. "I choose to live so that I can get another chance," he shouted. He grabbed a dagger and with careful aim, flung it close to Agron.

"Missed, you Roman fuck," Agron sneered. 

The soldier's face said otherwise.

Agron turned to his left and what he saw did not make any sense. Nasir was kneeling beside him, blood spurting from the side of his neck where the dagger was buried. He laid his sword down and laid Nasir down on the white sand.

"This will hurt," he said, an odd calm settling over him. The clang and hiss of metal striking metal suddenly sounded distant. He plucked the dagger out as gently as he could, failing as he felt Nasir's body stiffen with the pain. He pressed his hands over the wound to staunch the bleeding. The sand was turning red. Nasir couldn't speak, his throat bubbling over with blood. Agron felt a hand caress his face and he looked just in time to see the light from Nasir's eyes fade.

He heard horrible screams after, a voice that kept shouting Nasir, Nasir. He was pulled away from the body but he had to get closer -- couldn't they see that Nasir could still be alive, just be in deep sleep? Naevia knelt close to Nasir and placed a kiss on his lips. Her eyes were filled with tears when she looked at Agron and he realized then he was the one screaming Nasir's name over and over again. The others let him go and he ran towards Nasir, held him close, put one hand on the wound on his neck to stop the vital blood from seeping away. Naevia had remained kneeling, weeping at this point, and even that grief he could not share. Not yet.

"Brother, I know your pain," Spartacus said. "But now we must move. Apologies, Agron, but we have to move."

He carried Nasir with him to the tunnels, hearing some of the gasps from the other rebels as he held Nasir in his arms. They let him move ahead to the forest, where Agron knew a spot, one he and Agron had shared moments in, their dreams of a life after the rebellion. Nasir deserved to rest there.

Time passed as if in a haze. If pressed, Agron will not be able to remember what he did for the rest of the day apart from burying his beloved. There were hands that helped but he did not recognize them. He did not even feel the crashing, numbing grief and fatigue consume him until they forced him to abandon Nasir's body. He was lost to unconsciousness soon after.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron awoke to a warm day near the shore. He looked around in panic until he saw Nasir nearby with a spear and breathed a sigh of relief. The dream had felt so real that his heart still pounded with fear. He ran to the shallow waters, heedless of the hunters' attempts to spear fish and embraced Nasir from behind, his strength barely checked.

"Agron?" Nasir asked, trying to turn in his arms.

"A powerful dream," he mumbled in Nasir's hair. "Of you being taken by Romans. I did not care for it."

"I am still here," Nasir said, leaning back with all his weight, which Agron gladly shouldered.

"Stay for a little while," Agron said. "The fish can wait."

"The morning light passes and so does the opportunity," Nasir said, a trace of humor in his voice.

"They are creatures without sense that swim foolishly into the hands of who would eat them. There will be more of them."

Nasir laughed. "Our spears tell a different tale."

"You wade into their territory where they have the advantage," Agron argued for the sake of arguing.

"Then we are the ones without sense," Nasir said.

"That is evident," one of the fish hunters said, exasperated. Agron glared at the source of the voice, but Nasir just laughed again and walked closer to shore, beckoning to Agron with a tilt of the head.

"I have had similar dreams," Nasir said. "Ones of my dominus coming back or you never returning. Their power is uncommon, but I am always relieved by the sight of day when their power is broken."

"Truly." Agron leaned in and kissed Nasir with leisure, as if they had the luxury of the wealthy.

"Agron," he heard Naevia say behind him. He broke the kiss and stared at Nasir's luminous smile, the moment interrupted but not broken.

"Yes, Naevia?" 

"Spartacus summons you." A vague feeling of dread entered the pit of his stomach.

"I suppose I cannot break the fast first," he said, the words feeling familiar, a prayer half-remembered.

"There is food," Naevia said. "Bread and figs, some fish already prepared, leftover cheese from the kind farmers days ago."

He nodded at Naevia and walked with ponderous steps to the center of the camp where Spartacus, Gannicus and Crixus had already formed three loose points in a circle, waiting for Agron to close the loop. The men nodded at him and Spartacus started speaking without any delay. "We must now start the voyage north." He nodded along to the topics of conversation, from the direction they should heed to the long delayed tribute for the dead, knowing that Spartacus was frustrated with his lack of response but this day was not one he wanted to relive.

"Romans, Romans!" the sentry called out, and Agron felt a chill travel down his spine.

"How many?" Spartacus demanded.

"A small group," she said. "They appear to have deserted Roman command, but they charge with swords."

"Bounty hunters!" Crixus said. "Desperate men who cannot go back with honor unless they bear the results of fallen command."

The archers and gladiators formed their formation as they had in his dream, but if this day was determined to march along the same steps, then Agron was forewarned. He fought the soldiers until only a small group remained, four ready to fight to their deaths with the one coward already trying to get out. 

"Coward!" Agron shouted. He took one of the small daggers he had strapped around his waist and threw it at the pathetic example of a man. The soldier blocked it with his shield and quickly did the same with his own dagger. Agron did not anticipate Nasir tackling him down to protect him.

"No," he whispered. He looked down on his chest and saw the blade sticking out of Nasir's neck. "No, no, no," he said. He sat up quickly and looked with horror as Nasir's head lolled back. He held Nasir's face with his hands and just like in the dream, met his beloved's eyes just as the light went out.

"This is worse," he said to himself. "So much worse. I knew yet did nothing." He held Nasir's body close still, relishing the warmth still lingering. "Rise from slumber, rise from slumber," he repeated.

The whispers of madness he heard but paid not the slightest attention. He had been warned about this but did not do enough. He promised it to whoever would listen that he could change this, even as the others took Nasir's body from him, even as they stood watch, their concern over his state of mind palpable.

Give me another chance, he pleaded to the gods. Slumber claimed him with his pleas going in circles in his mind.

~ ~ ~ ~

On the third day, Agron told Nasir to search for something in the caves, but Nasir returned in time for the fight.

On the fourth, Agron told Spartacus that there was a group of Romans lurking nearby though he had not seen them. The leaders asked if he had taken leave of of his senses, but when he was finally proven right, it was futile as Nasir lay on the ground. He had never hated Spartacus as much as he did then, even when the guilt in Spartacus' eyes threatened to consume them both.

On the fifth, sixth and seventh day, Agron told Spartacus again and again but Spartacus never believed him, saying that he didn’t want to risk the group on a madman’s errand. He hit Spartacus on the seventh day, felt the crack of bone but whether it was his fist or Spartacus' jaw he never determined, not when Nasir always ended up giving his life on the sand. 

On the eighth day, Agron forged ahead to meet the Romans himself, but Nasir followed him along with a group of his kinsmen led by Saxa and Lugo. He welcomed the Roman's blade on his neck as he watched Nasir die again before his very eyes.

On the ninth day, he told Nasir to look for something in the caves and immediately went to meet the Romans. He must not have seen Nasir's concern at his insistence, because like the eighth, Nasir followed him and they met the same fate.

Agron's heart broke each and every time.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron awoke on the tenth day, warm on the shore. He told all of the hunters to leave them alone, which made Nasir look at him with alarm.

"I fear I am losing my senses," he said. Nasir's brow furrowed with concern. "I have been reliving this fucking day for nine days," he said. "You are taken by Romans each and every time. I do not know how much more of it I can take." 

"Taken by Romans?"

"You die. All the time," Agron said. He leaned his head against Nasir's. "It is torture."

An ominous silence from Nasir, then he asked, "You as well?" 

Agron looked at Nasir in shock.

"Your face is always the last thing I see," Nasir whispered in the space between them. "A dagger strikes a fatal blow on my neck, and your face filled with grief is what I take with me to the afterlife."

"Then why do you persist in following me?" Agron shouted. "If you are reliving this hell, why do you seek death?"

"I do not seek death," Nasir shouted back. "I seek to save your life! That Roman always aims for you, do you not see that?"

He stared at Nasir, aghast. Their efforts worked against each other, each thinking the other was doing the right thing to save the other's life. It was a cruel joke played by the gods.

Naevia appeared behind them. "Spartacus summons you," she said. And for the first time, Agron noticed the strain in Naevia's voice -- he had been so concerned with saving Nasir that it never occurred to him that others may have been suffering the same fate.

"Naevia," he heard Nasir say. "I have a strange question to ask you." He looked at Nasir as he gathered breath and courage to ask the question. "Has this day not felt like ten days over? As if this day repeats?"

The relief of Naevia's face was stark. "Yes," she said, near tears. "I thought it was perhaps a madness caught in the mines, or a cruel trick played by my mind. You live it as well?" she asked Agron, who could only nod. "I have yet to tell Crixus. He hides it well, but he watches me, concern always in his eyes." She looked at Nasir and stepped closer to embrace him. "I do not wish to see your lifeless body again, my friend."

"Nor I to die," Nasir said. "But what if I must?"

"No," Agron said. He looked to Naevia. "Summon Crixus, Spartacus and Gannicus here instead. Let us ask them." Naevia left with haste and as she left, Agron stepped closer to Nasir. They held each other, and now that the memory and experience was shared, Agron could again appreciate the beauty around them, the warm water and sand beneath them, and most importantly, the man before him.

"Did Naevia summon us here to see you and the boy fuck?" Crixus asked with disgust.

"Crixus!" Naevia said. Agron felt such irrational anger towards the Gaul again, but a look from Naevia and a tap from Nasir stayed his emotions.

"I am to ask a question that may make you inquire if I have taken leave of my senses, but ask it I must," Agron said. "I already know Nasir's and Naevia's answers."

"What is the question?" Spartacus asked, his eyes focused on Agron.

Agron took a deep breath. "Has this day felt like ten days lived over and over again?"

The expressions on all three men’s faces were answer enough, and Agron, for the first time in what has felt like an eternity, laughed out loud as much in relief as it was humor.

"Nasir dies over and over," Spartacus said, his guilt a sudden choking presence in the air and quelling Agron’s mirth. "Another person lost to the cause, someone I could not save." He looked about at the group before him. “I dared not confess to such madness.”

Crixus held Naevia's hand, while Gannicus looked to the horizon. "What it is that we must do?" he asked.

"If these are the gods playing a joke, it is a cruel one," Crixus said.

"The gods seek appeasement, but for what?" Naevia asked.

They lay in thought, Agron unable to think of anything that would help, frantic at the thought of having to see Nasir taken away from him yet again. Their silence was panicked until Nasir spoke, his tone hushed in respect. 

"The dead.”

~ ~ ~ ~

The Roman attack did not come that day.

The entire camp gathered flowers from the cliffs and stood at the shore as the sun set. Two huge fires blazed behind them, an echo of the sun's fierce golden red on the horizon. The day was warm but a brisk wind blew. The rebellion stood with their warmest clothes, those fortunate enough to have paired huddled together. Many were alone.

Crixus stepped out first with Naevia. "To Fortis, Liscus, Tychos, Rhaskos," he said. "Brothers I was proud to fight with." Naevia dropped four flowers on the water.

Those who had cause to mourn approached one by one.

"To Chadara, a friend who knew not better but deserved more."

"To Duro, beloved brother."

"Oenomaus, teacher, friend and warrior."

"Mira -- warrior, companion, friend."

And so it went until all names were called, all blossoms dropped on the gentle waters. Tears were in generous supply, respect even more so. The night seemed to wait with the rebellion, hushed and still. They stood at the shore as the sun sank, the flowers brighter in hue seemingly lit from within. As if by magic, they retained the light even in darkness like candles adrift on the sea.

~ ~ ~ ~

Agron awoke to a cold day near the shore, the sun obscured by clouds, the waves crashing violently on the gray sand. The blankets he had procured only barely covered them. Nasir, warm and alive and nestled in his arms, kissed him on the lips.

"It is a beautiful day," Agron said.

THE END


End file.
